The Cooler of Good and Evil
by Darknesse Sidhe
Summary: What's with all the fangirls? O.o
1. The Horrific Result of Boredom

**Karakuri Douji Ultimo goes to Hiroyuki Takei ….**

**Vice's truly foul language will be censored. Somewhat. There's not much I can do for someone with vocabulary that bad.**

The Cooler of Good and Evil

Boredom.

He knew the definition of that word well; it was a state of apathy and restlessness, an emotion that could move armies, destroy countries, and blow up little jars of pickles.

It was the only explanation.

He must've been bored. He must've had nothing to do.

How else would've Jealous managed to convince him to come here, anyways?

Acres of children, laughter, cotton candy, roller coasters, tents, benches, performances, amusement, vomit, popcorn, slushies, food stands, bubblegum, caffeine, swings, mechanism, and most of all, humans.

This place was infested with those filthy, stinky, fragile and soft-skinned humans, who stunk of sweat and dirt and saliva, and whatever food they had clumsily jammed into their mouths.

But it was to be expected, he supposed with a sneer. This was, after all, an amusement park.

That's right. Jealous had managed to drag _the_ Vice, one of the two most powerful and definitely the most evil of all the Karakuri Douji in the world, to the land of roller coasters, fun houses, and sweets.

As soon as Jealous stopped proving useful, Vice vowed to make his death as painful as possible. It would make all the beat-up's Ultimo had given the long-haired Douji look like faint bruises.

The senseless fool hadn't even given them time to dress up like normal humans before he'd dragged them here.

What Vice was wearing was unusual, but at least it was relatively modesty-protecting and _somewhat_ normal. But what Jealous was wearing? Vice couldn't even look at him, he was so embarrassed to be seen with him in public. The Envious's pants (or was it a skirt? It was actually pretty hard to tell) looked like they'd fall off at any moment, and he'd forgotten to put on a shirt before they'd left K's dusty apartment.

Vice hadn't had any innocence to start off with; no, Ultimo was the cheerful, sunny, annoying, innocent one with a bad habit of smiling and hugging everyone he met. But even Vice could barely look up.

Damn him, Jealous was going to pay.

He saw a bunch of people stare at Jealous in disgust, – justified, and he didn't blame them – but a few girls actually batted their eyelashes at him; Vice, that is. Even from here he could see how tight they'd pulled their clothes over their body, and the makeup overkill made them look like clowns gone rabid.

Vice couldn't blame them for giving him a once-over either; he was well aware of what he looked like to humans, and that was better than Ultimo. But he really _wasn't_ interested.

So, not being the discreet kind of person, he ferociously glared at them and stuck up both middle fingers before turning away and wondering once again, _What the hell am I doing here?_

Oh, right. The boredom.

Damn it, the puny emotion was going to suffer right along with Jealous.

"Well, Vice-sama?" said Jealous in his relatively calm voice. "Where shall we go first?"

"Damn you," Vice hissed, shading his eyes from the annoyingly bright and Ultimo-like sun. "Why did you make me come here?"

"You seemed bored. And I would've been lonely going by myself …."

"You could've taken one of the others, you stupid $#*^! I'm your damned superior, % ($ you!"

"You were the only one that seemed bored," said Jealous pointedly.

"You think I care whether or not I was bored?!"

Jealous thought for a moment. "Yes, actually. Well, what ride do you want to go on first?"

Vice started at Jealous in shock as the latter gave a wide smile.

"Freak," he muttered. "Look, I'm not going anywhere with you until you get yourself some damned proper clothes on! What's wrong with you?! I'm embarrassed to be soon with you in public, you % ($ - "

"VICE-CHAN!"

Both Vice and Jealous froze.

Only two people in the world occasionally called him "Vice-chan", though admittedly he'd never been called that in public, and he'd recognize that happy, delighted, cheerful, annoying voice anywhere ….

Well crap, it was Ultimo.

"What the he – "

"VIIIIIICE-CHAN!"

And Ultimo tackled him in a bear hug, sending him toppling to the ground.

"WHAT THE HELL, ULTIMO?!" Vice screamed and he tried to pull the redhead off. "WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE BLOOD OF OUR CREATOR DUNSTAN ARE YOU DOING HERE, AND _WHY_ ARE YOU GLOMPING ME?!"

'Pure Evil' finally managed to shove 'Pure Good' off, and the latter jumped back onto his feet, beaming.

"But I haven't seen you in such a long time, Vice-kun," Ultimo pouted.

"WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT MATTER?! WE AREN'T EVEN ON HUGGING TERMS! WE HATE EACH OTHER, DAMN IT! DUNSTAN MADE US ENEMIES BY NATURE! WE'RE SUPPOSED TO END THE WORLD FIGHTING EACH OTHER or something like that! SO _WHY_ DID YOU _HUG ME_?!"

"I took you by surprise!" said Ultimo happily.

His answer took both Jealous and Vice by surprise, and they stared at the redhead with blank looks on their faces ….

"What?" said Vice stupidly.

"I'm just happy I surprised you, Vice!"

Vice's vein throbbed. "Damn kid … I'm going to kill you now!"

Ultimo looked suddenly sad. "But Vice, Ultimo wanted to celebrate the festival first! Can't we rip each other into pieces later?"

Vice's rage increased. "You're postponing a destructive battle for some stupid festival?! Think about how much carnage it would cause here in this place full of people!"

"Hey!" Jealous interjected. "But that would ruin the whole place! At least let me try some rides first."

They ignored him.

"Vice-chan forgets, Ultimo isn't moved by unholy thoughts of death and destruction," said Ultimo with a smile. "Besides, it would be a shame to destroy this lovely festival …."

"It's not a festival, it's an amusement park," said another voice.

Vice paused at the familiar voice and turned to view Ultimo's chaperone, whom he hadn't noticed before.

It was Regula. The small, bald Karakuri looked up at him passively, though a hint of distaste and a whole lot of mistrust lingered behind his eyes. Of all the good Karakuri Douji it had to be ….

In Vice's eyes, the potential harm Regula could possible cause Vice was second only to Ultimo's. The Evilest raised his glove, knowing that despite that fact, Regula's power was still nevertheless miniscule compared to Vice's. The monk look-alike was nothing against him in a fair fight. Not that Vice fought fair anyways ….

Regula slid one foot back and raised his own gloves, eyes narrowing and hands coming up as Vice prepared to strike ….

Ultimo, on the other hand, completely misinterpreted Vice's raised arm. To the shock of the other three present, he grabbed it, pulled it down, and shouted right in Vice's ear, "Let's go on the biggest roller coaster, Vice-chan!"

"You," hissed 'Pure Evil' as 'Pure Good' dragged him away, "are the stupidest, $#*^^iest excuse for a rival that Dunstan could've ever come up with. I don't give a % ($ if you're supposed to be Pure Good, you're still pathetic, and I could sever your soul in a second …."

"Language, Vice-kun!" Ultimo scolded, and elbowed the black-haired boy right in the eye.

"OW! THAT HURT, YOU STUPID % ($!" Using a considerably more power than Ultimo had, Vice grabbed the redhead's arm to make sure he didn't get away, and punched him in the face so hard, Ultimo's head almost snapped off.

"Again with the language, Vice!" Ultimo chastised as they wretched themselves away from each other.

"Karakuri Henge - !"

"Karakuri Henge - !"

"Excuse me."

They stopped and looked at the girl who had suddenly stepped in between them. She had a round face, a thin figure, long and wavy brown hair, and bright blue eyes that were shining like stars when she looked at them, as if they were the greatest treasures she had ever laid her eyes on.

"Hello! How may we help you?" asked Ultimo, polite and friendly.

"What the % ($ do _you_ want, %*^(#?" growled Vice, making a slashing motion in the air. "Are you % ($ing blind? Can't you see we're trying to kill each other?"

"Well, um …" she fidgeted a bit, and then blurted out, "M-my name is Myrtle!"

"That's a nice name," said Ultimo.

"Not one gives a % ($!" hollered Vice at the same time.

Prompting Ultimo to give Vice a disappointed (but not surprised) look, and Vice to glare viciously at Ultimo.

Looking considerably nervous and a bit torn between the two opposing opinions, Myrtle stammered, "Uh, um … are you two … are you two U-Ultimo and Vice, Pure Good and Pure Evil, the Karakuri Douji?"

"Damn straight," sneered Vice. "So what are _you_, a stalker?"

"Fangirl," Myrtle muttered.

"Ooh!" said Ultimo excitedly. "I've never met one of those before! … Hey Vice, what's a fangirl?"

"Fangirls are a large section of the human population consisting, as the name suggests, entirely of girls. They are weird and strange and they obsess and stalk and glomp the unfortunate object of affection of their choosing." Vice sneered again. "To make it even more ridiculous, the object they obsess over usually don't exist in reality. Like everyone else on this stupid planet except for the incredibly handsome me, they deserve to be % ($ing exterminated."

"Vice-chan, do you think we have any fangirls?"

"Doubtlessly _I_ do. And don't call me Vice-chan, damn it!"

"Oh yeah, that reminds me," said Myrtle, her big blue eyes widening.

And then she screamed, "GIRLS, IT'S SAFE – THEY REALLY ARE ULTIMO AND VIIIIIIIICE!"

And fangirls peeked their heads out from every corner, making Good and Evil jump. For a moment they merely stared, drooled, and whispered to themselves, and then, one particularly bold one flooded out of the masses, aiming for Ultimo.

Ultimo laughed confusedly as he was tackled to the ground and showered with kisses. "What's going on?"

That one's girl's sudden attack and Ultimo's voice broke the spell, and fangirls flooded out from every corner.

Vice recovered after a moment of shock and turned the glove of his right hand into a blade, swinging it around and pointing it at all the darkly-clad Vice fangirls that threatened to stampede him.

"Get % ($ing back!" he snarled. "I swear, if you're my stupid-ass fangirls, then you should know that I won't hold back."

He deeply sliced the cheek of one close by, as a warning, but it backfired.

"Omigod VICE MADE ME BLEED!" she shouted joyously even as tears of both pain and joy filled her eyes. "I FEEL SO PREVELIEGED, BLESSED, AND HOLY!"

Screams of outrage and shouts of, "No fair, Vice should've cut me first!" filled the Karakuri's ears, and he realized that even if he did massacre them all, they'd still manage to keep on going.

How they managed to apply holiness to the slashings of the evilest being on earth was beyond Vice's understanding.

He glanced quickly at where Ultimo probably was, underneath a pile of shrieking fangirls, almost all with dyed red hair. Clearly, his kind and useless counterpart was not going to prove helpful in this.

As for Jealous and Regula … he couldn't see them anywhere, not through the mass of heavily applied makeup, black stilettos, black-and-green clothing donned by his fangirls, and jangling piercings. In fact, he hadn't seen them since Ultimo had dragged him off.

Damned traitors, leaving them all by themselves ….

His only choice, he realized, was to take to the sky, and quickly. Vice kicked about three fangirls away from him as he brought his hands behind his back, and shouted, "Karakuri Henge – "

Again, he was cut off, but a scream. "NO, GET HIM! DON'T LET HIM ESCAPE!"

Almost like one, huge monster, the united Vice fangirls swamped him, tackling him and smothering their bodies on him, one by one as they stacked themselves over each other in a tangle of limbs and hair, enveloping them all in a truly disgusting smell that must've been cheap perfume.

At some point, he hit his head hard against the cement of the ground and felt his consciousness begin to slip away. It didn't really make a difference. He couldn't see anything with all those stupid fangirls piling up on him anyways.

From a distance, Jealous and Regula quietly watched as their leaders were taken down by a horde of crazy fangirls.

"Should we help them?" asked Jealous after a pause.

"Hmm … my loyalty towards Uru-san is strong, but I don't exactly want to get caught up in that …" noted Regula.

"Yeah, me neither," said Jealous. "I'm not exactly jealous of Vice right now."

"So," said Regula.

And the next thing Jealous knew, he was flying through the air, and then he crashed painfully through a tent wall, landing with his head in the lap of some teenage girl wearing a unicorn shirt.

An awkward silence as everyone in the tent turned to look at him.

"Um," began Jealous, unsure of how to begin.

"DAMNED PERVERT, DIE, WOULD YOU?!" screamed the girl, who didn't take his lack of shirt very well, and sent him flying back to where he came from.

Who knew humans could be so strong?

This time, Jealous managed to land on his feet. Regula blinked at him in surprise. He hadn't expected Jealous to bounce back towards him.

"What the hell was that for?" the evil Douji snarled.

Regula sneered. "We're enemies. Might as well start acting like we are. Or do you disagree?"

Jealous scowled. "Fine. I'm not against ripping you to pieces. But not like this. _This_, we settle the good old fashioned way."

**No, it's not armwrestling, no matter how amusing that might be.**

**Anyways, in the meantime, review. Please?**


	2. Ultimo versus Vice

**Karakuri Douji Ultimo goes to Hiroyuki Takei and Stan Lee ….**

**If I owned Karakuri Douji Ultimo, some of the guys wouldn't look like girls (coughcoughJealouscoughMelieu coughcough), and Vice would be even more abusive to K.**

**Sorry, I just really, really, really don't like K … actually, I'm considering making a hate fic for him …. He's just so pathetic and whiny and annoying and hateable. He's almost like the adult version of a spoiled and weak-minded and weak-willed child.**

The Cooler of Good and Evil

When Vice came to, he found himself tied up in a chair. His gloves had been taken off [1.] and were lying by his feet. Not that he'd be able to reach them anyways; his hands had been handcuffed together about the back of the chair.

"Vice-chan, you're awake!"

He snarled. What stupidity had allowed _Ultimo_ to gain consciousness first?

"To be honest, I'm a bit disappointed," said Ultimo cheerfully. Vice glared over at him; he, too, had his gloves off, and was tied to a chair with his hands cuffed. "I was hoping that maybe the fangirls had killed you, 'cause like, you weren't moving even a bit!" Ultimo smiled sunnily at his evil counterpart. "It would've saved me a lot of trouble, you know! But I guess good things must be earned. Anyways, if you're absolutely going to live, then I hope you're okay and fine and feeling wonderful and loving, Vice-chan!"

And the disturbing thing was, Ultimo actually sounded genuine about everything that came out of his mouth.

"I," hissed Vice, "am going to kill you … kill you, you bastard, and then rip out your robot skeleton and hang it on my wall …." He smiled sadistically at the thought.

Then the redhead just _had_ to ruin his momentary good mood by saying, "No, _I'm_ going to kill _you_. Good always wins, you know?"

And again, it was considerably creepy, the way he said it; you know, all genuinely happy with his green eyes bright and all.

Damn kid.

"Just how naïve are you?"

Ultimo just shrugged and kept on smiling serenely.

Vice looked around at his prison. It wasn't much of a prison, to be honest, mostly because it was a tent.

It would've been easy to escape, had his gloves been over his hands. He could've done a Karakuri Henge and blasted through five miles in a split second.

Unfortunately, they were lying rather pathetically on the floor at his feet, and he couldn't even reach them with his hands cuffed and his body bound to the chair.

Enraged at his own helplessness, Vice snapped, "Ultimo, can't you turn back time and kill all the fangirls before they overpowered us or something?"

"I can't. Don't you remember? I'm only supposed to kill you."

Vice decided that he wouldn't waste time talking about the Maiden of the Moonlight's fate and decided to keep on jabbing at the point. He could remind Ultimo of his past sin and make him feel like all that crap later.

"Whatever, then I'll kill all those %*^(#$ if you won't."

"Then I'll have to stop you," Ultimo pointed out. "Killing is bad."

"Oh, like that will % ($ing stop me?" Vice snorted. "Anyways, can you do your tunr-back-time backtracking thing or not?"

Ultimo thought for a moment. Then:

"Nope."

"'Nope'?!" screamed Vice in rage, writhing and struggling in his bonds. "And why ever % ($ing not?!"

"Language, Vice! I can't because Master isn't here," said Ultimo simply.

Vice paused, his amber eyes narrowed. "Yamato?"

Then he remembered, and if he'd had his gloves on he probably would've destroyed everything within a mile radius.

Douji were only strong if they had their masters with them. Ultimo's Noh power wouldn't work with Yamato absent.

"And WHY, I ask, ISN'T your master with you right now?!"

"Yours isn't either!" pointed out Ultimo cheerily. "And besides, Yamato-sama is on a date! That's why Regula and I came here, see? Regula said we should give them 'some space', though I don't really understand it. Master says the amusement park's fun though, so I decided to go!"

Dead silence.

"A _date_?" said Vice, stunned.

"Yeah! He finally mustered up the courage to ask Regula's Master on a date, isn't that wonderful?" the redhead cried.

"Uh, you mean that Eco guy? Isn't he dead?"

"No! Regula has a new master now, and she's Master's crush Sayama-san, didn't you hear?"

"It sounds familiar … but whatever-% ($ing-ever! How the hell are I am supposed to get out of these % ($ing ropes and these % ($ing handcuffs?!"

"Perhaps if we are just patient, those girls will come and free us," Ultimo suggested.

"How damned stupid are you, Ultimo?! They're damned fangirls; do you really think they'd let us go?"

That wasn't the only reason Vice hated this last idea of Ultimo's. It was also because, as the world's greatest evil, patience had not become a characteristic of Vice's. His heartless soul had been built to reject all virtues like that.

Still, he decided not to say anything about this trait to Ultimo. He'd probably just smile and say something like, "That's so unique!" or something else really annoying.

And then Vice would probably try to kill him, he'd be so irritated. But he wouldn't be able to because he wasn't even able to get out of his chair, and his gloves were off.

And he'd probably get so frustrated by that, the moment he was let go, he'd make his presence known by razing everything within a mile-radius, and Ultimo would have to try and stop him, and then they'd make their presence even more widely known, and even more fangirls would come, and the cycle would start all over again until the world was in pieces.

So it was probably, he thought, a prudent idea not to say anything to Ultimo.

However, Vice was rarely known for being prudent, and on impulse, he rapidly changed his mind and he opened his mouth to tell his counterpart about his lack of patience.

The world would've ended in a year had not a two girls in differing uniforms – one had obviously dyed orange hair and one had black streaks in her naturally blond hair – suddenly poked their heads into the tent, interrupting Vice before he even had a chance to speak.

"Mistress Ultimo calls for your presence," said the orange-head.

"Mistress Vice calls for your presence," said the blond at the same time.

The two glared ferociously at each other as Ultimo's green eyes widened and Vice raised an eyebrow.

"Um," said Ultimo and Vice. "We're male, you know?"

"We are _quite_ aware of that," replied the blond, who smiled flirtatiously at Vice as she coyly twirled a black streaked-lock around her finger. Vice stared back, immediately bored by her, and scornful. "However, you see, we were not referring to you two. Mistress Henrietta Vice is the respected head of the Vice Fangirl section of the Karakuri Douji Fanclub. And the somewhat less respected Mistress Darlena Ultimo," – here, she sneered a bit at the orange-head – a loyal subordinate of Mistress Ultimo – who put on hand on her hip and sneered back – "is the Head of the Ultimo Fangirl section of the Karakuri Douji Fanclub."

"You're just jealous, because your people know that Mistress Ultimo is much more respected than Mistress Vice."

"Oh please, like that's even possible."

"Wow, they named themselves after us!" exclaimed Ultimo in a voice that implied that he felt honoured.

"They even % ($ing named themselves after us," muttered Vice in a tone that implied he thought this whole thing was stupid and pathetic, as he shook his head pityingly.

"Language, Vice!" Ultimo frowned slightly.

"Well, % ($ you!"

"Um, well, anyways, we should start getting you to the Mistresses," muttered the orange-head.

Ultimo's green eyes lit up. "Will we get our gloves back?"

The orange-head stared at him with wide eyes for a second; and then she tackled him, knocking him and the chair to the ground as she sobbed into his shirt.

"Er," said Ultimo. He gave Vice a 'what's going on?' look, but Vice just smirked at his counterpart's misfortune and hoped that the blond wouldn't tackle _him_.

The blond didn't look like she was going to anytime soon, though, thank … whatever force of nature was controlling the situation. She was leaning on one leg, her arms crossed and a disgusted look plastered on her face as she observed the orange-head and Ultimo.

"Oh, Ultimo baby!" cried the orange-head, still sobbing. "You poor child, you poor, sweet, innocent thing! I'm so sorry you won't be able to get your gloves back just yet, but Mommy will protect you!"

Instead of being thoroughly creeped out like a natural person, Pure Good started to tear up himself. Tears began to form in his eyes, and he sniffed. "Aw, don't cry. If you cry then I'll cry and crying is so sad …."

Staring, the slightly sexist Vice wondered to himself, _Was Ultimo really a guy?_

…

About twenty minutes before the two strongest Douji had been summoned, Darlena "Ultimo" and Henrietta "Vice" had met about fifty metres away from the tent.

At the side of each stood two other girls, - the vice-presidents, and not vice as in Vice, but as in second-command – and several other fangirls had gathered to watch them.

"Rietta-san," said the Ultimo fan stiffly, giving a bow.

"Lena-chan," drawled out the Vice fan in an obnoxiously sugary voice, also bowing.

As they drew up again, Darlena scowled. "Please … why so familiar with the _chan_, Rietta-san?"

Henrietta sneered her famous sneer (although if any of the Douji had been there, they would've thought it a pale imitation of Vice's), and casually and loosely crossed her arms. "Well, Lena-chan, we've known each other for a while, haven't we? And as colleagues, our statuses are rather … close."

Darlena gritted her teeth. She knew that the other thought herself higher than Darlena because she was a Vice fan, and she also knew that she felt the opposite because Darlena was an Ultimo fan. Nevertheless, she managed to make herself say, "We are equals, Rietta … - _chan_."

Henrietta's shadowed blue eyes narrowed as she blew and popped a piece of scarlet bubble gum. "So they say. But would you not argue that … my status is just a _teensy_ bit higher … since we both know the eventual outcome of the fight between Ultimo and Vice?"

Darlena's voice grew cold. "I think you mean the opposite, Rietta-chan, for we both know that Ultimo will win."

"I beg to differ."

"Get on your feet and beg."

"Begging is for wimps who are too cowardly to steal." Henrietta flipped her messy, dark (dyed) purple hair over her shoulder. "Your precious Ultimo, say. If he had a mortal body like us and needed food and drink like us, and he was cast onto the streets, he would starve to death rather than steal. That is the difference between Ultimo and dear Vice-kun, and that is why Vice-kun will always prevail."

"On the contrary, good always wins. Evil is sent to the corner for quiet time until he is inevitably killed by the greater good of society," insisted Darlena.

Henrietta popped another bubble. "Such a cliché plotline. I though you'd know better, Lena-chan. And you watch too much Megamind."

Darlena blinked blankly. "Megamind?"

"… Oh, so you thought up that quote yourself?" Henrietta groped her mind for a suitable comeback. "Well … clearly, that just shows how more pathetic you are. But what else would I expect from an Ultimo fan?"

Darlena turned as red as Ultimo's hair and spluttered, her green eyes flashing. "How _dare_ you. Ultimo-kun is ten times the person you'll ever be!"

"I'm a Vice fan; evil doesn't care for such compliments," 'Mistress Vice' declared.

'Mistress Ultimo' snorted. "Oh sure, that explains Vice's continuous vanity. Then again, vanity is a sin. Though your 'evil doesn't care for compliments' statement makes it appear that you don't think so. Could it be possible that you're not as evil as you'd like us all to believe?"

This time, it was Henrietta who spluttered. "I _am_ evil! Just as evil as Vice! And that is why he'll pick me and never pick you!"

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm not an _Ultimo_ fangirl."

"Vice could beat Ultimo anytime, anywhere! The only reason he hasn't so far is because other stuff keeps on getting in the way!"

"Nice excuses," commented Darlena sarcastically, leaning on one leg and putting on hand on her hip, the minor movement making her glossy brown braid shift.

Henrietta hissed. "Vice will defeat Ultimo and rip out his mechanical skeleton as a trophy, and you know it, Lena-_chan_."

"Well guess what, Rietta-_chan_? It is my solid belief that Vice will eventually die in the face of Ultimo-kun's holiness."

"Purity, right. Didn't Ultimo kill his Master's old girlfriend back in the Heian period?"

Darlena's eyes widened. "How dare you bring that up!"

Henrietta sneered. "Oh sorry, it must be a sore subject for you and all your pathetic pee-loving minions."

"It's _peace_, not pee, you fool. Ultimo – Ultimo didn't mean to hurt anyone, and you know that perfectly well!"

"He killed someone, and the esteemed Maiden of the Moonlight of all people just because the poor boy was jealous of his Master's affection for her. (But isn't the Maiden a boy now?) Surprisingly Vice-like, dontcha think? I might just fall for him … nah, he's still too pathetic for that."

"Ultimo-chan will clobber Vice!"

"Want to bet on it?"

"Yes," said Darlena, her eyes narrowing. "I do."

"Then we have a deal."

"You," said Darlena, pointing at an orange-headed girl dressed in the standard Ultimo fangirl uniform, who had come to watch. "Go to the tent and tell Ultimo-kun and Vice … -kun that we summon them."

The subordinate nodded.

"You, go with her," Henrietta ordered at a blond girl with black streaks wearing the standard Vice fangirl uniform. "Make sure they both come, and that Vice-chan is treated as fairly as Orange will ensure Ultimo … - kun is."

The lesser Vice fangirl saluted and flashed the fake orange-head a sneer, as the orange-head in question frowned at being called 'Orange'.

The two marched off towards the tent, speed-walking awkwardly and jerkily as they attempted to out-run each other without bursting into an actual run or a sprint.

**[1.] Is that even possible? I _think_ it is, but whatever, for the sake of this fic, it is.**

**Some of you are probably wondering what the two uniforms look like, and though I'm not used to describing clothing in or out of my fics, I'll try to explain it to you.**

**Standard Ultimo fangirl uniform: A knee-length white skirt and a white t-shirt that must be exactly one size smaller than that of which you actually wear, with a sailor-uniform-like collar. Buckle-up shoes are brown, look a bit like loafers, and are admittedly kind of ugly and just a bit painful. Socks go up to the knees and vary in design, but are generally a light green and red. Both the shirt and the skirt are lined with a thick green cross-sticking design, and the skirt is also equipped with a red belt. Wearing red ribbons in your hair and loosely around your ankles is also a tradition. Jackets and similar must be simple but elegant, and fit in with the color themes. Because of the white-red-green theme, they are often mocked as Walking Christmas, especially by the Vice fangirls. Piercings are not favoured and if they are worn, it must be solely on the ears, with a limit to one piercing per earlobe.**

**Standard Vice fangirl uniform: A very short black miniskirt – though wearings shorts or knee-length tights underneath are allowed – and a black or dark blue tank top at least one size smaller than the size of which you're actually supposed to wear, the tighter-fitting, the better. Socks generally aren't worn, and shoes can vary from flats to stilettos, – just nothing practical like sneakers unless the situation absolutely calls for it – making the fact that the Vice fangirls are so fast, surprising. Piercings are favoured and very common, as well as dark makeup and evil-looking tattoos. In fact, to enter the Vice fangirl association, at least one tattoo is necessary. Clips are worn instead of ribbons, and are standard for holding back hair. Jackets must be dark red, black, or dark blue, and can be either uselessly short, like fashion jackets, or of leather quality. Furs are worn a lot, as the Vice fangirls generally enjoy torturing and killing small and fluffy animals. But what else would you expect from the fans of Pure Evil? Basically the Vice fangirls are supposed to look like the girlish, supposedly stylish, and bratty versions of evil. In fact, as long as they look like it, the standard uniform isn't needed (though at very least one tattoo is), and anything goes that's darkly coloured.**

**Since I don't really feel like crowding this ending author's note with descriptions, I think I'll leave the descripts of what the higher-ups like Darlena and Henrietta wear to the next chapter, either in it or near the bottom.**

**Please review?**


	3. Singing is Amazing and Vice Loves It

**I do not own Karakuri Douji Ultimo.**

**And I'd get sad, but – not to sound cliché or anything – I'd rather write this fic than go over and sob in my emo corner right now.**

**So I hope you enjoy the third chapter.**

The Cooler of Good and Evil

Naturally, Ultimo and Vice lunged for their gloves the moment they were released.

The orange-head shrieked in horror, but the blond reacted a bit faster and kicked both pairs right out of the tent.

"You %*^(#," Vice snarled, and lunged for the blond while Ultimo, who was against fighting anyone but Evil Karakuri Douji, sat down on the floor looking sad and useless.

Tears formed in the blonde's eyes as she narrowly managed to dodge all the punches and kicks that launched themselves at her – barely. The tears streaked down, making her heavily applied mascara run.

"I'm so sorry, Vice-kun!" she cried as a punch barely missed her and scraped slightly against her ear. "Please don't take this personally, and I hope you'll forgive me afterwards, but I must listen to Mistress Vice and have you brought before them so I'm going to have to tackle you!"

And she did.

"Hey Orange, help me damn it!" she snarled as Vice viciously kicked her off. "You expect me to take on _the_ Vice on my own?"

"B-But what about this one?" The Vice fangirl pointed a trembling finger at Ultimo, who was still sitting there looking sad.

"Ultimo, you stupid % ($!" screamed Vice as he aimed a kick at the blond. "Get outside and retrieve our gloves, or else so help me take on these %*^(#$!"

"Oh, right! Sorry Vice-chan, Ultimo got carried away a bit." Ultimo jumped to his feet.

"AID, AID!" screamed the blond as she only managed to duck a high kick from Vice by collapsing onto the floor.

"SOMEONE HELP US, THEY'RE GETTING AWAY!" screamed the orange-head, plugging her ears and looking panicky.

In a few seconds the guards outside swarmed the inside of the tent and the two Douji soon found themselves handcuffed again, and though this time they weren't bound to chairs as they were required to walk towards the two Mistresses' summons, they were still being restrained by the guards, who were, incidentally, all female.

The violent Vice fangirl got to her feet and pushed some black-and-blond hair behind her ears. She smiled suddenly and seductively at Vice as she smoothened invisible lines on her too-small black tank. "Well, that was fun. You're a very good warrior, Vice-kun. You must work out a lot." She batted her long mascara-drenched eyelashes.

"Don't call me Vice-_kun_. No one calls me Vice-kun. And go % ($ yourself, you stupid brat. No one likes you."

Her smile faded suddenly and she hurried quickly of the tent.

A few seconds later, loud crying was heard from a distance.

The guards, accompanied by the orange-head Ultimo fan, dragged Vice and Ultimo out of the tent and across a field towards where a group of more girls – fangirls – were waiting.

They squinted in the sudden sunlight.

Vice hissed to Ultimo while they were marching, "Damn it Ultimo, I hate you … why do you have to be so stupid?"

"But I'm not stupid, Vice-chan, so I don't know why you're saying such mean things like that," said Ultimo honestly. "This fangirl situation is just a bit new to me, that's all. Sorry if I disappointed you though, I promise I'll try harder next time!" He smiled a sunny, optimistic smile that for some reason made Vice shiver slightly in mild fright.

Thus they slowly made their way towards the group of girls, as they tried to ignore the loving and obsessive gazes of the guards leading them, and the way their hands caressed and lingered on them even as they restrained them.

It was freaky and disturbing, and Vice wanted to get out of there are soon as possible.

If that was possible.

…

"Oh Vice darling, you are so much more handsome up close," cooed Henrietta, caressing his face gently and staring at him with hungry blue eyes.

"I am aware of how handsome I look," said Vice with mock politeness, "but if you don't mind, I would like you to please, % ($ the % ($ off. It would be greatly appreciated."

"Ah, that's my sweet little Vice, as foul-mouthed and lovely as ever," sighed Henrietta, trapped in euphoria as she enveloped Vice in a breath-destroying huge. And the air that he did breathe in was the scent of Henrietta's hair – newly dyed and extremely foul-smelling – as well as the god-awful old-lady perfume she had decked on herself quite heavily.

The Evil Douji's eyes started to bulge and he gasped, "Can't … % ($ing … breathe …."

How _did_ 'Mistress Vice' manage to survive, covering herself as she did with those noxious fumes?

Meanwhile, Darlena was staring at Ultimo with huge green eyes as if she couldn't believe he was actually here, standing before her in all his cheerful, redheaded glory.

"Hi," she said breathily, like she wasn't getting enough air. Ultimo looked at her in concern. Darlena didn't even seem like she was breathing. _Maybe_, thought the Good Douji, _if I can get her to talk, she'll start breathing again_.

"Hello, my name is Ultimo. Pleased to meet you!" he exclaimed.

Darlena looked ready to pass out, and not just from the lack of air. "I … I …"

It finally hit her, like a tsunami, what was going on.

"OH MY GOD I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!" She enveloped Ultimo in a hug.

Darlena smelled, unlike Henrietta, quite nice – like roses and strawberries, and the such. But nevertheless Ultimo suddenly found himself having a hard time breathing because Darlena, like Henrietta, had put on way too much. Or maybe it was because the leader of his fangirls was hugging him hard enough to break every bone in a normal human's body.

"Ah … please … Ultimo cannot breathe very well with you hugging him so … passionately like this …."

"Oh! So sorry! Gomenasai!" said Darlena, blushing as she pulled back and stared deep into Ultimo's eyes, green orbs locking on green orbs.

The redhead smiled politely, but he squirmed a bit under her intense gaze.

Meanwhile, Vice had managed to get himself out of Henrietta's greedy clutches and demanded, as he fought for breath, "So why the hell did you capture and call us here?"

Darlena's friendly and excited demeanour turned suddenly cold as she turned towards Vice, her eyes like grass-coloured ice. "Actually, we didn't capture you here for the same reason we summoned you. We merely wished to bathe in the glory of Ultimo-kun … and Vice-san, but now that you two are here, we have another reason for your presence."

"We challenge you two to a contest," declared Henrietta in her nasal voice, tossing her dark purple hair, "to see which one of you is better."

"We're equals," said Ultimo, at the same time Vice said, "I'm obviously better."

Henrietta glared at Ultimo, who blinked back confusedly, as Darlena glared at Vice, who sneered profusely.

"The contest will have three stages," Darlena said, continuing Henrietta's announcement. "You will not be allowed to use your gloves in any of these three competitions; in fact, we will not release you or even give them back unless you cooperate. Cheating is banned." Again, she gave Vice a glare. "Anyone who is caught cheating will be disqualified."

'Pure Evil' suddenly noticed how Darlena stood – a bit in between Vice and Ultimo, facing Vice, as if she planned on shielding 'Pure Good' from evil.

Pathetic. Just like the other fangirls. Especially since she was a fan of Uru. At least the Vice fangirls had some since sense to worship him, even if they were incredibly annoying.

"The winner will be decided on the number of points he takes," said Henrietta. "The winner of each stage will be awarded fifty points. There will be six judges – us Mistresses and the vice-presidents."

The Mistress thing was seriously starting to get on Vice's nerves. It just sounded so … wrong, in more ways than one. For example, he would never date Henrietta. In fact, he didn't even really have time for girls butting in while he plotted to win the Hundred Machine Funeral. Maybe later, but who would date a mechanical person anyways?

He eyed his fangirls sardonically. Apparently, a lot of them would.

"The judges are allowed to add points as well," continued Henrietta. "With the conclusion of each contest, a judge is allowed to award from 0 to 10 points. There are several other possible ways to earn points as well."

"Whatever, %*^(#$," interrupted Vice, scowling. "Can you just tell Ultimo and I what contest is up first? Because I just want to get this stupid % ($ing $#*^ over with, kay?"

Darlena scowled back, while Henrietta practically swooned. Somehow, their two differing personalities was disturbing to observe when put to action.

"You know, I'd really appreciate it if we could just get through the explanations without interruptions," Darlena snapped.

"Ignore him, he's always like this," said Ultimo cheerily at the same time Vice flashed her a bored look, "Whatever. Are you going to continue?"

There was a pregnant pause.

"Actually," admitted Darlena, looking a bit mortified, "That was … it."

Another pause. Then Henrietta and Vice snickered meanly.

Ultimo looked a bit confused. "That was it? But Uru heard you said – "

"I – I know." 'Mistress' Ultimo flushed. "A-Anyways … the events!"

"First up will be …." Henrietta paused. "Ummm …."

"… You people haven't actually thought up of any events yet, have you?" Vice asked.

"Well … no," said Henrietta boldly.

"I'm leaving," said Vice, and tried to run away, and was immediately tackled to the ground by about ten over-enthusiastically strict fangirls.

One of them shoved her face into Vice's short vest and exclaimed, raising her eyes to her comrades, "Vice-sama smells so wonderful!"

A few seconds later they were all sniffing him like hounds.

Vice looked into the sky and prayed for this all to be over soon.

"That's good," approved Henrietta, watching with an indulgent smile. "Now if Vice-kun runs away, we'll be able to track him by smell. Make sure you memorize his scent, girls!"

Ultimo observed his antagonist, and laughed. "Vice-chan, you look so funny like that."

Vice exploded. "SHUT THE % ($ UP, ULTIMO! I'LL % ($ING KILL YOU!"

The redhead just laughed pleasantly some more. "Vice-kun, you're _hilarious_."

"I've got it!" exclaimed Darlena suddenly.

Everyone stopped to look at her, in confusion.

"I know what the first event could be," said Darlena, clearing it up. "A singing contest!"

"Whut?" Henrietta, Ultimo, and Vice all said at once.

"A singing contest. You know, where people _sing_, as the name suggests." Darlena flashed her colleague a contemptuous look before continuing. "Only here, Vice and Ultimo-chan will have an hour to make their own songs up, and then present them to us."

"Why can't they just take a song that's already been written?" asked Henrietta with a frown.

"Isn't it obvious? There would be no originality! The songs will reflect themselves … and then we'll get to see how dumb Vice is," muttered the brunette to herself.

"Excuse me?" said Henrietta and Vice at once. One pair of icy blue eyes and one pair of burning amber ones narrowed.

"Nothing! Also because, this is a fanfic and if we use a song written by someone legitimate, we could get sued."

"Ah."

"But why singing?" snarled Vice as he struggled in vain to get free from under the groping bodies of ten of his fangirls. "Singing's stupid!"

"It's not!" snapped Darlena, angrily, looking ready to kick him in the face. Not particularly because he had said singing was stupid, but more because … well, he was Vice. She hated him.

Vice was about to argue, but was then distracted by one girl managing to get directly above him, parallel. The other nine shrieked in angry protest as she grabbed Vice's messy black hair and leaned forward, intent on delivering a 'passionate kiss'.

She was right on top of him, so with some effort he managed to avoid that by kneeing her in the gut and pushing her aside. Immediately she burst into tears at being 'rejected' as the other nine laughed delightedly at her expense and leaned forward to see if they could somehow get into the position she had just been in.

"Gaaah help me damn it!" Vice screamed.

Henrietta started forward, but Darlena held out an arm, blocking her.

"No," said the brunette stubbornly. "Not unless you say, 'singing is amazing and I love it' three times."

Henrietta looked annoyed, but also saw a chance to get something she wanted. She smiled and said, "_And_ not unless you say, 'Henrietta, you're pretty and I love you so much'."

"Both of you, go % ($ yourself!" howled Vice.

Ultimo decided to put in his opinion of things. "Vice-chan, no swearing please. Uru wants to keep his innocence."

"Innocence, my ass."

Ultimo's smile faded. He looked hurt.

Darlena gasped at her Lust Object's distress. "Now you have to say sorry to Ultimo too!"

Vice would've refused, but was abruptly cut off when one of the fangirls managed to grab his head and plant kisses all over his neck.

Ew! Ewewewewewewewewewewew!

"AAHHHHHH, okay fine. S … s-singing is amazing and I … I …."

Darlena smirked. "Yes?"

"It's … I love it. Singing is amazing and … I … hack … cough … choke … love … it. OH IT BURNS! IT BURNS MY THROAT!"

"Say it one more time," Darlena encouraged with a sweet smile.

He found a fangirl pounce on his leg, and move … up.

Vice figured that the Head of the Ultimo Fangirls was eviler than he was. He muttered, really quietly, "Singing … is amazing … and I love it."

"What was that?"

"DAMN IT, I ALREADY SAID IT AND YOU KNOW IT!"

Darlena did not like being shouted at, but she knew that the Evil Douji's annoyance was a sign of victory for her, and with another sweet smile she let it go.

"Okay fine. … Buuut, you still have to say sor-wy to Ultimo."

"Like hell I will!"

"Please, Vice?" said Ultimo, green eyes widening in a puppy dog gesture.

Vice remained unmoved. "No. Go % ($ yourself."

"We won't let you go," said Darlena warningly.

"Sorry, Ultimo."

"Aaand, what else?" drawled Henrietta with a knowing smirk that was also _supposed_ to be seductive.

Vice stared at her in disgust, and then gritted his teeth as one girl licked his hand. "Henrietta, you're so pretty (ugly)," he added quietly, under his breath so she wouldn't hear, "and I love (to hate) you so much. (Not that I can feel love.)"

Henrietta, having not heard the … _other_ parts, squealed in delight. "Oh thank you Vice-chan, I love you so much too!"

"Whatever, b****. Now get these % ($ing assholes you call your minions off me BEFORE I % ($ING KILL YOU!"

"Girls, get off," said Henrietta, still smiling like an idiot, showing off bright yellow teeth. Darlena drew back a bit.

There was a hesitant pause; then, they slowly obeyed their leader and withdrew.

The moment he was free, Vice started dragging himself away from them, clawing at the grass as trying to block out the agony of those past few moments.

"Vice-chan, are you okay?" asked Ultimo in mild concern.

"Sh-shut up …."

"Shall we begin?" said Darlena with a smile, clasping her hands together.

**I'm not very pleased with the ending of this chapter. The last sentence was cliché (although it suits Darlena), and a bit sudden.**

**But whatever. It's not like I hate it either.**

**If you've read my other story, How to Raise the Dead … try not to mix up Darlena from this story and Darina from that one.**

**Thanks so much to the people who reviewed the other chapters. More thanks to people who will review this one ….**


	4. The Help of Beatrice Mallory and Janine

**Stan Lee and Hiroyuki Takei take ownership of Karakuri Douji Ultimo.**

**By the way, this is NOT a Vice/OC and Ultimo/OC story.**

**Even if it was (which is isn't), why would I pair them up with such useless fangirls.**

**Even Sakura from Naruto in Part I wasn't that useless.**

**(And it would be lying to say that she was in Part II … O.o)**

The Cooler of Good and Evil

"DAMN!" Vice slammed his forehead against the table that had been provided, and cursed. Only, you know, justifiably. His cursing was justified (as usual -_-). Seriously, why the hell was song-writing so hard?

All he could think of was, "I am evil, evil Vice. Get too close and you are dead. I'm really violent and I don't care. What the % ($, just get out of my hair. I am evil, evil Vice. No one's ever called me nice," to the tune of 'Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star'.

He didn't want it too rhyme too much, because then it would sound like a poem from nursery school. But if he didn't make it rhyme at all, the words would fit together awkwardly and all that crap. Also, he didn't know what the hell to make a song about. Himself? No, he wasn't the kind of person who really went into depth about himself. (Hence the stupidity of the above song.) His hatred for Ultimo? That would be fun, but it would come out as a poem, not a stupid song like the stupid fangirls were a-asking for. Blood and war?

…

…

…

… Actually, that wasn't a bad idea.

But how was he supposed to make a song anyways?!

And all those reasons aside, there was one last, big reason he couldn't think of anything.

This last reason was incredibly obvious: to put to flatly, he just didn't want to do it.

This whole contest thing was a waste of time (although he would have the chance to beat Ultimo and rub it into his annoying NOT-smug little face), and Vice had been told many times that he had no appreciation for art like music and stuff, rah-rah-rah. Whatever. In his mind, songs were a waste of time anyways.

Still, this was evidently the only way the fangirls would let them go. And he couldn't _not_ try hard … his pride was on the line here, as well. He had to beat Ultimo.

… Stupid Uru, always getting in his % ($ing way. When the Evil Douji won the Hundred Machine Funeral and took over the world, that stupid little boy was going to suffer just as much as he was going to ensure these dumb fangirls were.

Especially that ugly Henrietta girl who seemed to think she was his beloved concubine, or something else disgusting like that.

"Vice-kuuun ~ 3!"

Especially this one, too.

The blond Vice fangirl – the one with the black streaks in her hair; the one that had, along with the fake orangehead, retrieved Ultimo and Vice before – had been assigned to guard Vice. Needless to say, she'd been delighted. Vice had not, but that wasn't unexpected.

Besides, Vice was rarely pleased by anything.

"Are you having trouble with anything, darling Vice-kun?" She leaned closer, her mouth right by his ear, making sure to use her mouth to breathe lightly on his neck.

He shuddered in disgust and violently elbowed her in the stomach, sending her falling back onto her butt on the floor.

"The hell?! Get the % ($ away!"

He shouldn't have shuddered. She mistook the revulsion for suppressed desire, and soon convinced herself that deep inside, he secretly wanted her.

She gingerly got back onto her feet, indiscreetly wiping nonexistent dirt from her butt in hopes that Vice would notice.

He didn't. He kept on staring at the stupid piece of paper on the desk in front of him like he was trying to make it burst into flames using sheer will.

Pure Evil was at his already very thin patience limit. Today … had _not_ been a good day, from being seen with a barely dressed Jealous in public, to being molested by hoards of his fangirls, to being called 'Vice-chan' and 'Vice-kun' by Ultimo. And now … this. Being forced to attempt to right a song while this ditz breathed and drooled all over his neck.

It didn't help in the least that said ditz had spent the last half an hour telling him about herself, distracting him from completing this incredibly dumb and worthless assignment he'd been given with incredibly boring facts about himself. Really. Why couldn't she just accept that he didn't care about her and that if he had it his way, all of them would die?

Still, he had learned against his will a whole bunch of facts about her. Her name was Beatrice Mallory ("My name is so beautiful, don't you think?"), she was fifteen years old ("Just the perfect age for you!"), she was a natural blond ("Which makes me even more alluring, don't you think?"), she was cruel to small fluffy animals ("Because I'm evil, just like you, and everything I do is in your name – we're meant for each other!"), and her favourite colour was gold ("Just like Vice-chan's beautiful eyes.").

He's replied to them all with a blunt, "I don't give a % ($."

So, a quick summary of the last thirty minutes:

Beatrice: "Vice-chan, I didn't have time to properly introduce myself last time we fatefully met in that tent with Ultimo-filth and the Orange Blob. I'd like for us to get to know each other a bit better. First of all, my name is Beatrice Mallory."

Vice: "I don't give a % ($ about your name."

Beatrice: "Now, now, Vice-chan, don't be mean. You know you love me. And what do you mean, you don't care about my name? Just stop and think about it for a moment. Say it with your mouth; feel its beauty on your tongue. After all, my name is just so beautiful, don't you think?"

Vice: "Shut up. No one likes you."

Beatrice: "Don't say that! After all, I'm fifteen years old. Just the right age for someone like you, right? Moody and angsty and beautiful and nubile and full of PMSing blues."

Vice: "I honestly don't give a % ($ about how old you are. I am not and will never be attracted to you. You are not appealing, do you hear? Not even a little bit."

Beatrice: "B-but I'm a natural blond*!"

Vice: "So what the % ($? You just aren't doing anything but being a shame to actually intelligent blondes everywhere. Now go away. I don't give a % ($ about your hair colour."

Beatrice: "Ohhh, Vice." *sigh* "You know you want me. You know you love me. Why must you deny it and be cruel to me so much? … Hey, did you know I like to torture small fluffy animals? Just like you, or so I've heard! And it must be true. After all, you're evil, right? So am I! I'm totally evil, and cold-hearted, and sadistic, and strong-willed, just like you! You know, everything I do is in your name – isn't that just so romantic of me? Evil people like romantic stuff, right? We're meant for each other!"

Vice: "I don't give a % ($ about who _you're_ meant for, but sure as hell I'm not meant for you."

Beatrice: "I don't think you realize just how beautiful and romantic I can be. Here, let me give you an example to help you change your mind. Um … oh, I have it! Vice-kun, my favourite colour is gold! Because of your eyes, Vice-kun. Because of your eyes! Your eyes are such a beautiful color, Vice-chan."

Vice: "I said, I don't give a % ($ about you and your favourite color. Now leave me alone before I stab you."

Yes, his patience was wearing thin indeed.

…

On the same field, over one hundred metres away, Ultimo sat at a table writing _his_ song, with his guard, the false orangehead who turned out to be named Janine.

Ultimo was a naturally creative person. He liked pretty things – pretty stories, pretty poems, pretty art, pretty songs. The only thing he didn't single out for prettiness was people. He thought that all people should be treated equally, and took pleasure in showing that he believed in that kind of fairness. It wasn't hard to give examples for other people to follow; he treated Vice fairly all the time, and in Uru's eyes, the Evil Douji was not only mean, but hideous.

Not that the redhead would admit it to his face. His flawless kindness prevented him from doing so. He knew that, no matter how good people were or how true it was, they didn't usually take being called ugly very well.

That being said, it has to be admitted that the girl beside him – Janine – was very ugly indeed. But she seemed to have a pleasant personality, even if she displayed a bit _too_ much enthusiasm at times.

"Ultimo," she said dreamily as she sat on a chair and stared at him adoringly. "You're wonderful, Ultimo-kun."

Ultimo gave her his usual happy smile and said a cheerful, "Thank you!" before returning back to brainstorming ideas for his song.

But it wasn't long before he was interrupted again.

"Ultimo … Ultimo-kun?" She blushed as he turned to look at her again. "Will you … I have a question for you."

She paused for a second, and Ultimo realized she wanted him to tell her to ask him the question. He didn't understand why she would need permission to ask a mere _question_, but if it made her happy ….

"Go ahead and ask. Uru will listen to your question."

She looked a little relieved. "O-okay. You don't have to say yes, but I'd really like you to listen to me, at least."

She suddenly flushed as red as Ultimo's hair and then mumbled, under her breath, "Will you … will you …"

"Yes?"

"Will you marry me?!" she blurted out, and then her face heated and she abruptly buried her flaming face in her hands.

Ultimo blinked owlishly, a little shocked. Had she just asked him … _to marry her_?

"Um …"

"I understand," Janine sighed, lifting her face from her hands. In a span of seconds, she seemed to have calmed down a bit, but the look on her face was unbearably sad. "You probably don't like me like that. We've just met, and Mistress Darlena-sama is so much more prettier and sweeter and kinder and gentler and generous and amazing-er than I … you are probably just saving yourself for her."

"Um …?" What was he supposed to say? Ultimo groped for a suitable answer for a moment, and then gave up and decided to tell the truth. He'd never been much of a liar, anyways. The only time he'd really, really lied about something was after he'd, ah, killed Lady Gekko back in the Heian period.

"Actually," he said, "Ultimo doesn't really want to, um, settle down with anyone right now. Not you, not Darlena-san, not anyone else. Ultimo is really sorry." His kind nature made him flash her an apologetic look. "But right now, Uru has to deal with Vice and winning the Hundred Machine Funeral with Yamato-sama and the rest of the Good Douji Club. Maybe after, I'll think about it, okay?" He beamed one of his really, really bright smiles at her.

A spark of hope entered Janine's eyes. "Oh … okay." Then she glanced down at Ultimo's blank paper. "Um … would you like some help with that?"

***I'd just like to say that I don't mean anything by this. I'm not making fun of blondes, or anything. Actually, I hate people who stereotype blondes; that's actually the only thing I'm trying to emphasize here with what Vice says following up. Hair color doesn't determine intelligence. Personality determines intelligence. Beatrice Mallory's personality just happens to be very, very … unappealing.**

**A slightly shorter chapter than usual, but not by that much.**

**Review?**


	5. Round One

**I don't own Karakuri Douji Ultimo or Legend of Zelda.**

**In case you forget who Myrtle is, she was the first fangirl in this story.**

**I think she said something like, "Girls! It's all clear! It really is Ultimo and Viiiiiice!"**

**Despite saying Vice's name long, she's an Ultimo fangirl though. Actually, she likes them both (which she keeps secret from the rest of the Ultimo fangirls) and delusions herself over a 'love triangle' involving her and them, but ultimately, she prefers Ultimo.**

The Cooler of Good and Evil

The fangirls had relocated from the amusement park (where Jealous and Regula were continuing their epic, off screen, battle, the gold old fashioned way that wasn't arm wrestling) and had re-gathered somewhere downtown, having rented out one of those underground jazz places – called, Some Jazz Place – for the night.

Time was up and it was unfortunately time for Karakuri Douji to hit the stage. The select fangirls and some fanboys that had been chosen to observe the 'holy poems' of the two were dressed formally and seated at the round tables, and the six judges – Henrietta (Vice), Darlena (Ultimo), Beatrice Mallory (Vice), Janine (Ultimo), a girl named Stomach Problems (Vice) , and Myrtle (Ultimo) – were seated at two rectangular tables in front of the stage.

The host was a bewildered teenaged boy called Roy (who didn't belong to this dimension, btw [1.]), who had been innocently wandering the streets looking around in awe when suddenly he'd been attacked by a hoard of girls who'd blackmailed him into taking this job for the night.

Roy, dressed in a spiff suit that itched, discreetly scratched himself very clearing his throat and tapping into the microphone he held.

"Ladies and gentlemen. I welcome you to Some Jazz Place's first Karakuri Douji Competing composing-and-singing contest, held by the Official Karakuri Douji Fangirls United (OKDFU)."

Cheers and screaming filled the room; it was mostly screaming. Roy winced inwardly, but kept a smile plastered to his face for the fangirls.

"Tonight the competition will be between the most evil and the most good of the Karakuri Douji – the leaders of their factions, Ultimo and Vice."

Most of the fangirls cheered and clapped politely, but a few narrow-minded fangirls on Vice's side threw banana peels – rumoured to be a favourite food of Vice's – and screamed, "_It's Vice and Ultimo, idiot!_ Vice comes first!"

Roy burst into cold sweat as he dodged one of the floppy yellow skins. Coughing and wishing he were anywhere but there, he spoke into the microphone, "Yes … well … our esteemed judges for tonight will be representing both the Official Ultimo Fangirls United (OUFU) and the Official Vice Fangirls United (OVFU). From the OUFU, we present 'Mistress' Darlena Ultimo, head of the OUFU; Myrtle; and Janine."

Claps, and sneers.

"From the OVFU we present 'Mistress' Henrietta Vice, head of the OVFU; Beatrice Mallory; and … Stomach Problems?"

Cheers, and scoffs.

Roy looked across the room at all the obsessed, hyperactive, fidgety, rabid fangirls, and slowly lowered the arm holding the speech he'd been forced to write out for the occasion.

He looked at them for a long moment, long enough that Darlena, Henrietta, and a few others noticed and he soon found himself on the receiving end of several glares.

He cleared his throat, and then said, "And now, what you have all been waiting for, the main event …."

About fifty heads turned to look at him, with bright shining, hungry, expectant eyes. Roy flinched a little but regained his composure.

"In that case … shall we begin with the Karakuri Douji Ultimo?"

Darlena smiled, smug and satisfied. Henrietta's glare became icy.

He quickly ran off the stage as the Vice fangirls started to snarl and hiss, and the Ultimo fangirls started to cheer. The curtains parted, and out stepped Ultimo, his red hair combed down in that old-fashioned slicked-back look, and characteristic serene smile on his face, a piece of paper in his hand.

He was wearing a suit.

The Ultimo fangirls melted. Many of them stood, and then immediately fell to their knees, joyful tears spilling down their cheeks. A few of them got nosebleeds and passed out, including the judge Myrtle, her head thumping forward as the red liquid slowly spread across the white table cloth. But pretty much all the Vice fangirls flinched, muttering and growling and a few particularly loyal ones clawing at their eyeballs and screaming complaints about how hideous he was.

"Rietta-san," Darina murmured, without taking her eyes off Ultimo, whom she was staring at with utter adoration and lust. "Control your minions, please. This is an occasion that must be respected."

Henrietta snorted derisively but obeyed and flashed her 'minions' a look. They died down, but continued to glare viciously the redhead on the stage.

Ultimo had no idea why his audience was being so strange and bipolar, but as a Douji who adamantly believed in his own capability to muster through any situation, he merely kept on smiling as he reached the center of the stage.

_I forgot to give him the microphone_, Roy realized. _Oops_.

Fortunately, Ultimo didn't seem to realize this and paused for a moment before glancing down at the page.

Darina and Janine quickly lifted Myrtle's head and stuffed a smelling salt under her face. The brunette came to, blinking confusedly.

And Ultimo began to sing.

_I am Ultimo._

_People call me cool._

_I don't know why but sometimes,_

_I like to think of myself as Zelda._

_You know, the girl from Hyrule._

Zelda? Roy stared at him confusedly. The princess who got kidnapped a lot and gave Link cryptic message? Why Zelda?

_I want to destroy Vice,_

_But only 'cause he's mean._

_If he wasn't, I'd_

_Like him like a big brother._

_Or a twin._

_Or something._

_Yeah!_

"Blasphemy!" cried a few Vice fangirls, but they were ignored.

Behind the curtain, Vice, who was listening with disgust, shuddered.

_Yes, my name is Ultimo._

_People call me cool. (Or they call me Uru-chan.)_

_I'm the nicest Karakuri Douji in the world._

_No, seriously._

And with that, Ultimo concluded his song with a little bow.

Darlena, Myrtle, and Janine all gave him 10's. "I helped him with that song, you know," bragged Janine.

Henrietta and Beatrice Mallory both gave him 0's. Henrietta shook her head in disbelief. "That was just …."

Stomach Problems had been feeling a bit dazed lately, and though she had meant to give him a generous 1 [which she had written as 01] she accidently flipped it upside-down and it became a ten [10].

Fortunately for her, neither Henrietta nor Beatrice noticed.

"And that concludes Ultimo's song, with 40 out of the top mark of 60!" declared Roy. He tentatively came over while discreetly scratching himself – the suit really itched – and put the microphone in front of Ultimo. "Do you have anything to say to the audience before you and all the people reading this story, Karakuri Douji Ultimo?"

Ultimo smiled and said, "I put all of my heart into composing that song. I hope it makes people happy. I'd like to mention my archnemesis Vice-kun for being in it, and some orangehead who helped me make it. I don't remember your name, sorry."

"It's must've been me," some of the orangeheaded Ultimo fangirls whispered to each other. "Ultimo must've seen me and been struck by my beauty, or something."

Janine looked ecstatic that Ultimo had mentioned her, and enraged at the other fangirls. "What are _they_ talking about? It was me!"

Darina smiled tightly and tried to look sympathetic while inwardly screaming with tears in her heart's eyes, "What about me, Uru-chan? You didn't really have a reason to mention me, but why didn't you do so anyways?"

"Remember," said Roy, saying what he'd been told to, "that the winner of this contest also receives an extra fifty points. Next up, the evilest of the Karakuri Douji, the Karakuri Douji Vice!"

Dear Lord, how he hated playing host.

There a was a pause; and then, a second later, a grumbling Vice trudged out dejectedly, amber eyes flashing murderously and shoulders hunched. A slightly-crumbled piece of paper was suffering in the death grip of his bare hand.

His long, black hair had been brushed furiously and was being held back in a stiff ponytail. He had somehow found himself in a pair of expensive-looking black shoes and yes, ladies and gentlemen, he was wearing a suit.

"AIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

The hands of half of the people in the room slammed over their ears as the Vice fangirls broke down, sobbing and clutching themselves in ecstasy.

Henrietta had risen to her feet, a hungry look in her eye. She looked ready to stamp on stage in her black high-heeled boots and glomp her object of desire at any second.

"The % ($ …?" Vice muttered, glaring about viciously. "What are they screaming about?"

"My ears," groaned Roy quietly to himself. "I think they're bleeding."

Meanwhile, Darlena had grabbed Henrietta by the sleeve. "Sit down," she snapped.

Henrietta jerked her arm away. "Don't tell me what to do! Vice-kun is _my_ love and if I will to go to him, I shall!"

Darlena rolled her eyes. Even when she had been face-to-face with Ultimo in a suit, she hadn't acted so … so _immature_! "Calm you hormones and sit down, Rietta-san. Are you a judge of this contest and a Mistress or not? You're despicable, but don't you _consider_ yourself important? Don't just go barging up like any spoiled little fangirl!"

Henrietta hissed, scowled, and said a few unflattering choice words, but she sat down.

Eventually, everyone calmed down a little more. Roy cleared his throat.

"Vice-san, if you will …"

Vice stormed angrily to center stage, whipped his paper In front of his face, and started to recite scathingly,

_I hate you all._

_You fangirls are so stupid._

_This world is so stupid._

_Humans are so stupid._

_I can't wait until the One Hundred Machine Funeral_

_Because you will probably all die!_

_Prepare yourselves._

_I am Vice._

_I hate you all._

_Stupid _% ($_s._

Darlena rose to her feet in disbelief. "You didn't even sing!"

Vice waved a hand dismissively as his fangirls sighed dreamily at him. "Whatever."

Roy glanced about uncertainly for a moment before saying, "Well now … will the judges decide?"

Henrietta and Beatrice Mallory both gave him tens, of course, but Stomach Problems, who was at least honest, gave him a two, much to the dismay and outrage of her fellow fangirls.

And of course, Darlena and Janine gave zeros each. However, Myrtle did secretly like Vice – not as much as she loved Ultimo, but still – and tentatively held up a 7.

"Vice's judgement thus concludes with 29 out of a top possible awarded score of 60," said Roy in a monotone. He sighed. "Remember that the judges award points, but do not decide the final winner, who receives an additional 50 points. The judges are biased, but I think we all know who the true winner is here."

He flashed the crowd a meaningful look.

Well, Ultimo's had been pretty damn bad, but compared to Vice, who didn't even sing …?

At least Ultimo's had been relatively positive.

"Fifty points go to the winner of this round, the Karakuri Douji Ultimo. Thus the first round concludes with Ultimo – 90 points; and Vice – 29." Roy sighed again, scratched himself, and then said, "Well, goodbye, everybody."

The Ultimo fangirls burst into cheers and wide smiles, while the Vice fangirls groaned, cursed, swore, kicked things over, and glared at a retreating Roy as if this were entirely his fault.

"Wait!" screeched Vice, lunging for him. "How the hell did _he_ win?! I'm way cooler than he is!"

But Roy was already gone. He'd done his job, so the fangirl's didn't really have any reason to kill him, but he was getting out of that dimension as soon as possible, before they had a chance to blackmail him into hosting Round Two.

And, he was getting out of that scratchy suit. It was making him do embarrassing things.

Ultimo came out from behind the curtains in the back as the Vice fangirls started picking catfights with the Ultimo fangirls below. He smiled at Vice and slapped the Evil Douji good-naturedly on the back, making the dark-haired boy wince.

"I think you were great, Vice," he said cheerfully. "It's too bad I won. Good luck to you next time! I wonder what contest will be happening next?"

He skipped – yes, _skipped_ – away before his wicked counterpart could strangle and slaughter him.

**[1.] I don't like making new OC's, 'cause I have a lot, and it's hard to keep track of them. After making six named fangirls for the fic you're reading right now, and one unnamed girl (the one who punched Jealous near the end of Chapter One), I decided that I'll try to reuse a few OC's. Roy is an OC I used for my Pandora Hearts fanfic Break the Punching Bag, for either the second or third chapter. After what Sharon did to him, I figure he's one of the politest (and sanest) of my OC's and would be best as a host. (Insane OC's that are hosts are fun but hard to control or even hire and they leave or get kicked out after about ten minutes.) Still, since Roy's determined to leave the Karakuri Douji universe, I guess I might have to revert to an insane one for Round Two after all.**

**Anyone reading this that's an Ultimo or Vice fanperson; I'm not saying you're all like this, so please don't be offended. This fanfic just represents the fanpeople that take things a _bit_ too far. I'm not trying to stereotype or anything like that. Please remember that this is entirely fictional and actually pretty much has nothing to do with real life.**

**Anyways ….**

**So far, it's Ultimo: , Vice: .**

**Reviews are appreciated.**


	6. Wash My Back

**Karakuri Douji Ultimo goes to Hiroyuki Takei aaaaand Stan Lee.**

**I'm sure at least some of you were wondering what was happening between much-missed Regula and Jealous during the last four chapters.**

**It's not that I dislike Yamato, necessarily … he's a bit annoying, but he's alright as character go. It's just that I think his IQ was much higher back when he was a bandit. Because as a high-school student ….**

**Ah yes, a filler chapter here ….**

The Cooler of Good and Evil

After his much-failed date with Sayama, during which he humiliated himself at least once, and they were interrupted at least three times, a grumbling Yamato trudged back to his home, avoided his frightening mother – who was sitting on the couch watching TV – went into his room, flopped on his bed, and fell asleep.

He was woken up only about ten minutes later, when Pardonner appeared and, floating by his bed, tactlessly kicked him in the gut.

Pardonner was, yes, the Patient. But evidently not so much with Yamato.

The force was enough to make a red-faced, gasping, half-asleep Yamato spill all his urine onto his sheets – Mother was definitely going to spaz over it later – but did care?

Well … it stunk, but other than that, no, not really.

"Wake up," droned the Good Douji with a snap in his voice, "you nitwit. We have an emergency and Regula's not here …."

Yamato jumped to his feet, groaning when he observed the mess he mad while he clutched at his gut. "What the % ($ was _that_?! Look what you made me do!"

"It's not my fault you can control your bladder as well as an infant," said the Patience haughtily. He swept his arm and indicated to the window. "Come on. We have stuff to do."

Yamato's jaw dropped, his eyes popping out in what was, sadly, typical nitwit Yamato behaviour. "_You … you destroyed my window_!"

"Yes, I did. Can we leave now?"

Yamato folded his arms across his chest. "You made me pee my pants, you broke my window, and now you expect me to go wherever with you without an explanation?"

"Yes," said Pardonner immediately without hesitation whatsoever. There was a pause; and, when it was clear Yamato was not going to go anywhere, the 'Good' Douji thoughtfully added, "Shall I drag you?"

"Shall you tell me what's going on?"

Pardonner stifled a sigh. "Well, Yamato, fine. If you want to waste time, then yes, I will stop, let the enemy's trail go cold, while I explain everything to you because you can't even let me explain things to you _on the way_."

So, much to Yamato's shock and dismay, Pardonner's gloved hand shot out and proceeded to break more of the window, smashing it and sweeping the broken glass away until the window was completely void, and then he sat on the ledge.

Completely ignoring the uncomfortable-looking but perfectly useable chair at Yamato's desk.

"So, it's like this," Pardonner began.

"We of the Good Douji Club were calmly sitting at the Good Douji Club hideout when we realized it was getting rather late and Ultimo and Regula hadn't come back yet. Of course, we don't expect much from Uru-san, who has the attention span of an infant, but nevertheless we generally trust Regula to be responsible enough to bring one of our most childish – Ultimo's kinda in a tie with Service at the moment, though he's slowly pulling ahead – and the most powerful of our kind back intact and alive. But many hours passed and they did not return, and we received no message. We quickly came to conclusion that if they had gotten held up, then they'd either been attacked the Evil Douji; or, Ultimo had gotten distracted by something, run off, and Regula had lost him, as unlikely as that sounds. As you know, or rather, _should_ know, Regula was taking Ultimo to the fair today. Why? Because Ultimo got rather bored and he thought the fair sounded interesting. Sophia and I went over to the fair to investigate and see if we could locate Ultimo or Regula. We could not locate Ultimo, but we did find Regula, who was, ah … how should I put this … he was with our enemy, the Evil Karakuri Douji Jealous, and for some mysterious reason I cannot fathom, the two morons were stuffing cotton candy into each other's faces. Of course, with Sophia and I as backup, we quickly defeated and tied up Jealous. Then we tied up Regula too, just in case. After all, he already proved he wasn't being the mature Douji we thought he was. Jealous refused to say anything even when Service tickled him, but Regula admitted his negligence and told us the truth: he and Ultimo had met up with Vice and Jealous, and Ultimo had dragged Vice off to the rides. Vice and Ultimo had quickly been attacked by a mysterious mob of girls and whisked away within seconds. Regula and Jealous were enemies, so … they decided they would stuff stolen cotton candy into each other's faces instead of going after their precious leaders. And then I decide to part to find you, Ultimo's master, because although you do seem rather useless most of the time, without you Ultimo cannot even fight anything properly. I left Service in charge of Regula and Jealous. By now, Ultimo's kidnapped must've gained a considerable distance between us, and amongst other reasons, because you could not be bothered to listen to this insanely long explanation _on the way_; no, you had to listen to it right away. Well, no matter. If Ultimo dies because of this, it will be your fault, not mine. Don't worry; even if the other Douji hate you for this forever and ever and ever, I will forgive you, because, after all, that is my nature. I shall not aid them in torturing you to death, even if I won't defend you. You did destroy our leader, after all."

Yamato blinked for a few seconds, comprehending this information. And then, after what seemed like ages, he finally straightened and declared, "Alright then, let's go!"

"Bathe yourself first," said Pardonner. "I don't really care whether we caught up to Ultimo's kidnapped in time or not, but I am not staying within 100 metres of you if you continue to reek of your disgusting urine.

…

It was the dead of the night by the time Yamato had snuck past his mother and they had started flying to the amusement park – which, he figured, would probably be closed by now anyways.

"Next time, don't ask me to wash your back for you," said Pardonner as they took off.

Yamato exploded. "Will you _ever_ let that go? I never even said that!"

Pardonner ignored him and continued to talk. "You can act all you want like that with Ultimo, but if you ask me that again, my claws will skin you alive."

"I thought they were gloves," said Yamato, "and are you even listening to me? I _never_ asked you to wash my back for me!"

"If you ever ask me to wash your stupid weak back again, I'm going to humiliate you somehow."

Yamato snapped. "Alright, I've had it. Pardonner, put me down RIGHT NOW. We are going to have a nice long talk and establish a few points about your irritating attitude. … I said, PUT ME DOWN."

"Okay, Yamato." And the next thing he knew, Yamato was falling out of the sky.

He screamed like a little girl, and then proceeded to wet his pants again. "AIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE E! PARDONNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE R!"

With an exasperated sigh, the Patient swept down and caught Yamato just before he hit the ground, snatching him by the back of his shirt, making the front of the shirt catch against his neck and start strangling him.

As Yamato choked, gargled, and hung on for dear life, Pardonner grumbled. "You are so stupid. Now you have to spend another half an hour on another bath just because you peed yourself againt. Why oh why were you ever born with a bladder? If Ultimo dies, it'll be your fault."

Yamato was too busy choking, gargling, hanging on for death life, and scrabbling at his shirt collar to reply.

"And don't you ask me to wash your back this time."

**Maybe I exaggerated Pardonner a bit.**

**But does anyone else get the feeling that he dislikes Yamato a bit more than everyone else?**

**Review.**


	7. Sleepless Night

**Karakuri Douji Ultimo goes to Hiroyuki Takei and Stan Lee.**

**I'm sorry I'm so sucky at updating, everyone!**

**I don't actually think mechanical robot boys need sleep, but for the sake of this story, the Karakuri Douji do need sleep.**

**In this fanfiction, one day has passed since the beginning of the story.**

The Cooler of Good and Evil

Vice was beginning to wonder if he was going to die.

No, not because someone was chasing him screaming murder or because the One Hundred Machine Funeral had finally happened and lo a behold, he was actually being beaten or something like that – but because he had neglected a much-needed sleep in order to stay guard over himself, and the fangirls, and he was getting very tired, very cranky, and he could actually feel himself dancing on the border of insanity.

Turns out, the Karakuri Douji Official Fanclub had a lot of money at their disposal. Enough to buy a small motel, in fact. And thus the fangirls present at Round One, and their two victims, were allowed to have a night of luxury before they moved on to Round Two.

Or so they thought.

Most of the fangirls, sure, were probably able to sleep well, dreaming happily of pursuing their fictional lust object in whatever scene their minds had come up with. But Vice?

Henrietta had assigned four nocturnal fangirls to lock and guard Vice's room – two in, two out. Technically, they were supposed to change shifts guarding the inside and the out, but despite many enraged, muffled protests on the guards on the other side of the door, the guards on the inside had never, not once throughout the whole night, even moved as if to unlock and open the door.

Disappointing. A switch in the guards was the same as opening the door, and an open door would be the same as a chance to escape this nightmare.

But the point was, after Vice had suspiciously checked the blankets to make sure there weren't any special needles or anything to sedate him so the fangirls could … ah … ravish themselves upon him in his sleep, and after he had just decided that he really was actually tired and he might as well take a break ….

That's when he suddenly and finally noticed the sly, coy, and implicative gazes of the two fangirls at the door. They were giggling with each other and even he could tell they were mentally undressing him in their heads.

Okaaaay then, even if he wasn't going to be sedated, sleep was out of the question.

Instead he went over to the other side of the room, leaned against the wall with his arms folded, and watched them suspiciously.

They would look at him, and then burst out into more high-pitched giggles, smiling and batting their lashes flirtiously. But more time passed, and Vice didn't move a muscle. He continued to glare at them ferociously, without blinking, as if daring them to try and go after him. A few times his eyes twitched, but otherwise he remained silent and immobile. It was like he was a statue.

Even the fangirls, who had initially melted at being on the receiving end of "Vice-sama's moving, melting, warm, fierce, vibrant, loving, lusting amber eyes" were starting to feel a little disturbed.

Finally, the taller, skinner of the two cleared her throat nervously.

"Uh … Vice-sama? W-Will you not … sleep at all?"

"No."

His voice came out flat and dangerous.

The girl simpered and flinched under his rejection, seeming to recoil within herself.

"But … but why not, Vice-sama? S-Surely you must be terribly tired …" she mumbled uncertainly to herself.

"No - % ($ing - NO."

The two were quiet for a long time.

But only around ten minutes later did they suddenly start giggling again. They leaned away from Vice, whispering to each other thoughtfully as they snuck mischievous glances at the Evil Douji, and as the guards on the outside whacked their fists against the door and demanded ragefully for the position switch.

Somewhere deep inside of his metaphorical and not actually existing heart, Vice was scared of how they were whispering, giggling, and plotting. Outwardly, he did not react, but inside, he could feel himself getting tenser and tenser by the minute.

So when the girls finally left their position at the door, smirking and winking and hair-tossing and sashaying their figures towards him suggestively, he felt his fear and dread reach its limit, and before she could walk another two steps towards him, he lunged for the lamp on the nightstand, – which happened, incidentally, to be the closest vaguely weapon-like object at hand – viciously tore its plug from the socket in the wall, spun around, and pointed it at the two fangirls threateningly.

"Come two steps closer," he said warningly, his eyes glittering, "and you will regret it."

The taller of the two looked uncertain, but the shorter of the two – and clearly the bolder of the two – quickly wiped away her surprised expression and replaced it with a coy, 'adorable' pout, posing unappealingly on her knee.

"Why, Vice-sama … you wouldn't hurt us, would you? I mean …" – and here she straightened and then stretched as if luxuriously, thrusting out her chest – "aren't we your beloved followers, after all?"

"My followers you may be," Vice said, trying to ignore the fearful trembling in his hands, "but make no mistake. I hate you all."

The tall one had taken a few steps backwards. She looked peeved, annoyed, and a little jealous of the shorter one's bravery, and was shooting her partner irritated looks, which her partner responded to by leaning on one leg and pushing out her hip towards Vice. As the terrified Douji watched, the taller girl scowled and actually turned pink with annoyance.

The shorter of the two smirked, and then continued sashaying towards Vice.

Vice waited, and when she was close enough, his arm shot out and he more or less swung the lamp at her head.

Surprised, she twisted her body backwards, landing in the gymnastics' bridge position. A second later, she had thrown herself back onto her feet, but with a little too much force, and she stumbled forward, crashing right onto Vice's chest.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA H!" screamed the Evil One, shoving the fangirl off him ferociously. He then proceeded to run around the room, shrieking his head off. "IT BURNS! IT BUUUUUUUUUUUURNS! I SWEAR I AM MELTIIIIIIIING! GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

…

In the next room, Ultimo, who had been drowsily dozing off while _his_ two adoring inside guards gave him a much-welcomed massage, woke with a start. He turned from his position on his stomach onto his back and sat up.

"Ah … Ultimo-sama?" said one of his 'guards' nervously.

He flashed her a kind smile and didn't seem to notice when she turned red and looked ready to pass out while her partner scowled at her.

"Yes?"

"Um … er … ah …" stammer-mumbled the fangirl uselessly.

The other rolled her vivid green eyes and stated the question her colleague had been unable to. "Is there something wrong, Ultimo-sama?"

There was a pause.

"No, nothing." He smiled at her – and then _she_ became red and stammer-full – and lay flat once more.

It didn't really matter if Vice-kun was in trouble or not. Ultimo had solid faith that his anti- brother-in-arms would be able to see it through. Vice's anger and vanity would pull him through nearly whatever situation he got into, wouldn't it?

…

"MY FLESH," he moaned, banging his fists despairingly against the wall as he leaned his head against it, on his knees. "MY POOR, DOOMED, TAINTED, ABUSED FLESH. IT HURTS."

While the one who had 'tainted, abused, and doomed' Vice's flesh sat on the floor looked stunned and dismayed, the taller of the fangirls hesitatingly approached her charge.

"Vice-sama …?" She very gently and very reverently touched his arm.

He flinched away violently and then whirled on the one on the floor, raging.

"YOU," he snarled. "YOU did this ….!"

She shrank back, her previous boldness gone. "V-Vice-sama …?"

And he might've strangled here there and then, but ….

Oh, he was tired! So very, very weary. He figured the only thing that was keeping his burning lids open and himself awake was the anger and fear swirling inside of him. (If he slept, what would the fangirls do to him while he was oblivious to the world?) While he would've liked her to drop dead there and then, some things had to be prioritized, and his beauty sleep was one of them. He knew that if he didn't sleep well at night, he'd be riddled with irritation, sunken cheeks, a slumping spine, dragging feet, a hollow stare, and deep bags under his eyes in the morning.

All which was heavily unattractive and definitely undesirable.

"You two," he rasped, pointing at the girls one by one. "Out. Now."

The taller of the two trembled, clutching the arm he'd slapped away. He was faintly satisfied to see a little red mark forming on her. "I-I am so, s-so sorry, V-Vice-sama, b-but … we can't! Mistress Henrietta Vice-sama will … will be t-terribly displeased i-if we disobey her orders to guard you without f-fail!"

"Out," he moaned, clutching at his head and beginning to shudder. And once he had started shuddering, he found he couldn't stop.

The one that had been on the floor had gotten up and was looking at Vice with a dazed look on her face. She looked as if she had just been slapped in the face.

Doubtlessly, whatever reaction she had been expected from her advances on him, a mental breakdown on his part had been far from her list.

The taller one was also looking at Vice, a frightened, conflicted expression on her face as she decided what to do. Finally, she made her decision, and pressed her arms to her sides to control her shaking as she pressed her lips together.

Tears sprinkled into her eyes and she prepared to reject the person she had long since decided she loved the most. Even though she didn't really know him as much as she was under the impression she did.

"I'm sorry, Vice-sama," she said in a voice that barely wavered. She looked at him sadly but firmly and stubbornly. "But no."

Well. That meant sleeping safely was out of the question.

…

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH ! AAAAAAH! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Ultimo, already in dreamland, heard Vice's scream of rage, insanity, and frustration from the other room, but barely acknowledged it.

Wherever Vice is, I'm sure it'll work out for him, he thought cheerily, and continued his dream of prancing happily through a flowery meadow full of butterflies.

…

And that is how, in the morning, Vice trudged to breakfast and a meeting with the Mistresses and Ultimo, looking like to everyone else the most depressed, apathetic zombie in the universe.

**That chapter was rather pointless and unnecessary to the plotline, but it was fun to write anyways. : )**

**Though at this rate, this story will never be completed ….**

**Review. Perhaps it will ease Vice's sorrow.**


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